Disclaimer: Nope, I don't own The Walking Dead.

Don't Make a Sound

Heart pounding, Daryl raced down the stairs as fast as his knee would allow. It wasn't nearly fast enough. He wobbled on each step. Daryl flung his crossbow across his back with a savage growl and dragged himself down the remaining stairs with his free hand on the railing. The floor was only a little easier to navigate.

"Gotta help Carol."

With the sun now set behind the building, the dining room was dark. A few candles had been lit in haste; one had tipped over, leaked wax, and then was snuffed out. A group of women sobbed at an open train door. Dodging their pointed fingers, Daryl pushed them out of the way and looked out into the yard.

"They're out there." One woman yelled in his ear.

"My baby!" Another said.

Across the yard, a group of rescuers raced toward the caboose. By some stroke of luck, the caboose car was parked on the opposite side of the yard from the dead. With a quick assessment, he rubbed his knee, and noted that Jonathan was missing from the rescue group. Parents, Rodney, and Kenny too were nearly there, with Carol leading the way. The little bit of relief he felt reduced the sting in his lungs; she was alive and Double Rod kept their word about speaking to Kenny. Jonathan must be locked up somewhere.

From the right side of his vision the mass of the dead continued to pour in from the hole in the fence. Gun shots rang out into the horde now lurching toward the caboose. Kenny had a weapon raised. Other shots erupted from the guard tower-Neal finally having no shortage of targets. The corpses had yet to turn their hungry gazes to the roundhouse.

But if his companions kept screaming, they'd soon have the dead banging on the front door too.

Daryl's head pounded. His knee threatened to give out. He wished he could run as fast as his thoughts flew. At light speed, he crafted a plan. Close the door, keep the dead away from the front. Get to the caboose. Survive despite his bum knee, his swollen eye, his bruised body.

"Gotta get Carol. Gotta get her safe."

He grabbed the nearest body-Samantha. "Close this door behind me. Do you understand? Lock the other train doors." She finally nodded at him when he shook her shoulder.

His fingers slipped as he loaded his crossbow. "I'm gonna go help 'em. We'll come in the back door."

"Okay. Yes. Yes," Samantha wrung her hands but didn't move.

"Sam!"

"I got it!" She shoved him out the door.

He stumbled. Cursing, he righted himself and was comforted briefly by the sound of Samantha calling out tasks over his shoulder. He set his course for the caboose. Jogging over rails and gravel was perilous on a normal day, at a sprint with a bum knee it bordered on impossible. The only thing that propelled him forward was Carol and the kids stuck in the caboose.

The dead were a wall of hungry flesh coming in from the right. He was half way across the yard when one corpse wandered too close and he had to shoot it. The bolt shattered as the corpse hit the ground.

Behind him a train door let out an ear splitting creak. The horde split. Half to the very visible food source and half to the loud noise.

Daryl bit his lip, drew blood, and willed his body to move faster.

Kids poured out of the caboose and into their parents' arms. The cluster of people turned as a single entity to face the horde. Another gun shot. Neal shot again from the guard tower and drew a few more of the corpses his way.

"Carol!" Daryl yelled to get their attention off of the dead and toward him.

Another corpse got too close, its mouth gaping and hungry. He planted his foot, skidded, and stabbed it in the shoulder. His knee collapsed and the corpse fell down on top of him. It bit at his throat but caught its teeth on his knife blade. With a growl, Daryl grabbed his other knife and struck its temple. He threw it off him, heaving.

"Daryl!"

Relief washed over him. Carol rushed to his side, still leading the pack of children and parents. Double Rod each carried two kids. Jules had his son over his shoulder. Two older children cried, their hands clasped tightly in Jackie's grasp. Kenny's grim gaze was glued to the encroaching dead.

Daryl stood up, ignoring the sharp pain in his knee. "I told Samantha to leave the back door open. Come on!" He was already leading them to the back of the building by the time he stopped talking. They ran over tracks, skidded on gravel, and dashed across the turntable.

The dead came close. Closer. Also stumbling over the train tracks, but not hindered by pain.

Daryl's knee throbbed when he stopped at the corner of the roundhouse. He pushed Jackie in front of him. "It ain't far!"

Jules dashed passed him.

Then Kenny and Rodney and Rod.

Carol fell in at his side and together they dashed down the back side of the building. His stomach dropped as the group huddled outside the door. Jules franticly banged on it, a loud dinner bell for the dead. The first three shambling corpses rounded the corner. Wedged between the back fence and the building, the dead had nowhere to go except toward them.

"Open up!"

"Let us in!"

Daryl shoved them aside. "Move! It opens outward."

The door cracked open. Daryl yanked it wider and shoved Carol inside right into Samantha's arms. Rodney dropped the kids from his arms and they took off running inside, nearly toppling Jules over in their haste. Kenny stood gaping as the rest of the kids and parents pushed past him.

Rodney yelled, "Get inside, Kenny!"

The big man drew his gun and fired into the horde. One head exploded. Then another just over Kenny's shoulder.

The engineer screamed. Daryl grabbed him by the shoulder and forced him into the building. Then, together with Rodney, they took out four of the dead. The pile of bodies created enough of a tripping hazard for the other corpses to give them the time they needed. Rodney and Daryl finally ducked into the door and slammed it shut.

Thankfully, Sam had thought to grab a flashlight. She locked the door's dead bolt and gestured with the light. "Put the cabinet against it," she said.

Daryl and Rodney jumped out of the way as two women pushed a file cabinet against the door. They all held their breath as the dead banged on the entryway. Kenny winced with each skeletal hand that scratched and clawed.

The door did not budge.

"Fuck," Kenny breathed, reached for his cap, but found it gone. "Fuck."

"Agreed," Rodney let out a heavy sigh.

In a steady voice, Sam said, "There are more file cabinets in the map room. Let's barricade the door."

"What about the front doors?" Daryl asked, turning to crane his neck down the hallway. He stumbled. Carol caught him against the wall.

"We already got those," Same said. "I have a few people upstairs looking for any other heavy pieces of furniture that we can spare."

"Thank you, Sam. And Daryl." Kenny nodded at them, tried to adjust his cap again, and cursed. "Let's all meet in the dining hall, huh? We gotta...talk this over."

After stacking several file cabinets against the back door, the group dispersed in sniffles and tears. Sam and Rodney followed Kenny to further brace the large train doors, all ten of them. Left alone in the dark hallway, Daryl finally wrapped an arm around Carol.

"You alright?" He asked into her shoulder.

"Yes." Her breath was hot and alive and so close on his neck.

He tipped her chin upward, searching for any sign of injury or distress. Satisfied with what he found, he dropped his head to her shoulder and shuddered. "I woke up and you weren't there. Sophia told me about the kids. I had ta make sure..."

"Worried about me?" She cupped his head and lifted it from her shoulder. With a tender touch, she brushed the hair from his eyes. "You're the one who taught me how to fight."

"Nah," he huffed. "You already knew how to do that."

She smirked, stood on her toes, and kissed him.

Shadows passed back and forth in the dining hall. All the nervous energy funneled into barricades, food counting, questioning. What would happen when there was nothing to do but wait? Kenny and Rodney were doing their best to direct people. Any hysteric outbursts were promptly silenced. They all needed to be on the same page to survive this. One weak link and the dead would overwhelm their defenses.

Daryl selfishly took the time to cradle Carol against him for a few seconds longer.

"Come on. We better go help," he said when they parted.

"You should rest."

"'M fine," he insisted.

A loud series of knockingcame from down the hallway. They both flinched. Another rapid round of knocking was accompanied by someone saying, "Hey! What's going on? Let me out!"

Daryl's hands folded into fists. "Jonathan," he spat. With a nod he and Carol approached the door.

"Hello?"

Even muffled by the metal door, Daryl could identify the sound of his attacker. For a second, his anger got the best of him. He slammed his palms against the locked door. "Shut the fuck up."

There was a long pause. "Daryl."

"Shut up," Daryl repeated, his voice now a low simmer. The only thing keeping him from smacking the door again was Carol's grip on his wrist.

"What's going on?" Jonathan tried again.

Daryl hissed into the door crack, "Stay quiet. Or I'll feed ya to the dead outside."

Jonathan paced and shuffled, but gave up. It was the smartest thing he'd ever done. Daryl smirked at the ensuing silence. With a stiff nod, he linked his fingers with Carol's and pulled them to the dining area.

As selfish as it was, Daryl needed to find out Kenny's plan for Jonathan.

"Cuz if he don' got one, I can come up with somethin'."

"Alright, everyone gather in." Kenny wiped the sweat from his forehead. There were bags under his eyes and a grim set to his jaw. Everyone moved closer, Jules and Jackie, all the parents and their kids. Rodney had abandoned his usual post next to Kenny to stand at the front of the crowd with Samantha.

Sophia had come down from the room and threw herself into her mother's arms. Daryl stood protectively behind them and tried not to give away his weak stance. His damn leg shook. But before Kenny could speak again, Carol directed Daryl to the staircase and made him sit with just a look. He huffed, but squeezed her hand in thanks.

Up on the raised platform, Rod gave his boss a reassuring pat on the shoulder. Kenny nodded. "I don't have much ta say. We all know what's outside. They're pinned in by the fence with only that small opening so they're not wanderin' off like they should. I think our best bet is ta just stay quiet...and ah..."

Seeing Kenny falter, Rodney spoke up, "We have enough food in here for a couple of weeks." He nodded at Daryl and a few others who went out for canned goods. The poor chickens were definitely corpse food, but the pantry was stocked well enough. "And we did a pretty good job with that water hose, so baring some calamity we should still have water."

The reception was mixed. Jules bobbed his head, taking in Rodney's assurance. He even cracked a smile. Jackie fed off her husband's positivity, but Laura's face showed little to no emotion. She wasn't the only one either. All the blank stares and parted mouths looked no better than the dead outside.

"They're in shock," Daryl concluded.

"As Rodney said." Kenny found his voice again and stuffed his hands in his pockets. The dead moans took over each pause, each break in Kenny's speech. The walls squeezed in around them, the large building now not large enough. "No reason to worry just yet. So let's get cozy, let's keep quiet."

Thankfully, most people had enough sense to heed Kenny's directions. Those who spoke louder than a whisper received icy glares from others. For a few moments, everyone seemed to just look about the room, taking stock of who was at their side. As people began to crawl upstairs, Daryl got different kinds of glances, some embarrassed, some curious. Word had gotten around then that Jonathan and some of his asshole friends tried to beat him up. He wasn't the only one; Carol was also on the receiving end of a few sideways looks.

It was better than Laura, however. Everyone ignored her.

One of the train doors rattled. The reminder scared more people out of the dining hall and upstairs to their rooms. Daryl eyed the front of the roundhouse and its ten entry points. The doors weren't designed to withstand an attack, but they weren't flimsy either. The advantage of residing in a house for trains was that the structure was built with heavy industry in mind.

They just needed to keep the pressure off the doors.

The last person downstairs was Kenny, who approached Daryl and Carol with open hands.

"Daryl." Kenny greeted. "I'm so glad yer alright. Double Rod told me what happened."

Daryl waved away his concern. "What are you goin' ta do about Jonathan?"

Again, Kenny went for his cap, but remembering it was gone, sighed. He licked his lips and said, "I...I don't know yet."

The swelling over his eye twitched. Daryl hissed, "Kick 'im out! He fuckin' came at me for no goddamn reason other than he's a jealous, nosy, son-of-a-bitch!"

"I know, I know. I promise I'll figure it out." Kenny franticly patted his pocket and pulled out a cigarette. "But I gotta tell ya, the dead outside are a bit more worrisome than Jonathan right now." It took him three times to light it. Kenny's hand shook as he smoked.

Right on time, another one of the doors groaned under the pressure of the dead outside. The four of them eyed the barricade, stiffening themselves in case they needed to leap into action. The door groaned again as whatever had pressed against it moved on. Carol sent Sophia upstairs. Despite her fear, the girl turned around at the top of the staircase to watch her mother and Daryl.

Daryl swallowed his next outburst. In a measured tone, he said, "Fine. But if you don' do somethin' eventually, I will."

Kenny took a long drag on his cigarette and eyed Daryl and his family carefully. The man never promoted outright violence, but then again, never had someone done violence within his walls. Overwhelmed, Kenny gave in with a shrug. "No doubt he'd deserve it. But I gotta ask ya to wait."

Daryl gave him a grim nod and yanked himself up from the step.

"If you think of a way to get rid of the dead and need help, let us know." Carol offered.

Kenny let out a smoky whistle through his teeth. "Of course."

He was still pacing the dining room hall when Daryl and Carol reached the top of the stairs. Limping, Daryl had extra time to watch Kenny finish his cigarette, stomp it under his boot, and grab another.

Once at the top, they gathered Sophia and finally retreated into their room.

The first night, no one slept. Carol tried to persuade Sophia to sleep with soft hums and bedtime stories, but the girl was not swayed. The three of them together ended up just sitting on Daryl's bed, tight and close to one another. Carol wrapped Daryl's knee and washed the cut on his face. Sophia spun her penny on the tiled floor until she just gave up and laid down next to her mother.

The sun rose but the dead were still outside. They'd ripped a larger hole in the fence and now the entire protective barrier seemed to wobble in the mass. Bodies could be heard bumping against the front doors throughout the day. Trapped between the fence and the building, they milled about, always searching for food.

No one mentioned Neal or how the guard tower was gone, crushed beneath the dead.

On the second day, Daryl finally managed to sleep. The beating caught up with him and he passed out for most of the morning and afternoon. As if he was someone worth copying, Sophia also napped in her room, exhausting winning over fear. If Carol slept, he wasn't sure; whenever he was awake, so was she. He caught her staring out the window, coming back with rations, or trying to read a book. Late in the day, she slammed the book down on the table and cupped her hands over her ears, just to try and muffle the sound of the dead for a moment. Daryl got up and wrapped himself around her. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, the action small, but it seemed to comfort her.

The dead still did not leave.

On the third night, Daryl glared out the window from the table, gnawing one finger nail at a time. The roundhouse was now just a giant food stash for the dead. In the moon light, the mass of dead flowed like an ocean, unending and powerful. Daryl spat out a nail for every discarded escape plan that came to him. They were trapped and their best bet was to hope that the walkers wandered off on their own. If only there was a way to distract them, to encourage them to leave the fence...

He pinched the bridge of his nose and flinched. Every time he brushed a bruise it was a stark reminder of unfinished business. Kenny had promised Jonathan's punishment but only after they got rid of the dead. Daryl wasn't used to waiting for justice, he usually got his own revenge the instant he decided he wanted it.

Was he trying so hard to figure out an escape plan just so Jonathan could finally get what was coming to him? Daryl discarded that possibility; he wasn't so selfish and reckless to use that as a primary driving force. No, he had promised to keep Carol and Sophia safe. And even all his strength and skill couldn't get them out of this.

He bit again at another finger while this behemoth of a problem ate at him. It was enough of a distraction that he didn't hear Carol join him.

"Hey." Carol leaned her head on the window. "How are you feeling?"

His ribs ached plenty and he was pretty sure he'd have a limp for awhile. Still, he shrugged, "Good enough." Seeing her frown, he added, "Really. I'll be alright."

Then, because he'd run out of escape routes to ponder and to convince her he was telling the truth, he pulled her into his lap. She sighed against him, eagerly accepting the comfort that came with physical touch. She, with her head on his shoulder, and he with his hands around her, sat in the night while the dead circled the building like sharks. The building moaned and yet Daryl had found momentary peace.

The dead outside be damned.

Jonathan and the others be damned.

Carol was beautiful iced in moonlight and he had her in his arms.

He nearly missed the first kiss on his neck. A hushed secret, her breath just barely there. The second one was more overt, her mouthing the soft skin where the collar of his shirt ended.

"Carol?" He fingered the hem of her shirt as fire from his core licked up his body.

Carol untucked her shirt to give him access as she kissed his mouth. It started soft, but she quickly gave into a hunger, fisting his shirt and deepening the kiss. Panting, Daryl drew away. He looked across the room to the closed door separating them from Sophia, his eyebrow cocked with a question.

Carol brought him back to her with a light caress to his cheek. "She's asleep," she whispered. The little movements of her hips in his lap were all the convincing he needed.

He simply nodded and slipped his fingers under her shirt to explore that hidden skin. Much like when he was outside, he was an attentive wanderer. Daryl traced the edge of her pants, paused briefly when he found one of her scars he had been wrongly blamed for. His chest tightened.

"Don' wanna hurt ya," he rasped then, skipping ahead to where this surely was going and suddenly afraid. He couldn't have her doing something just because death was outside and hungry for them. As tantalizing as Carol was, all pale freckled skin and sweat, he placed his hands over hers, willed them to slow down.

"You won't," she promised. Frowning, she parted his hair and ran a finger long the frayed edge of a bandage. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah." He drew his face to hers again and murmured against her lips, "'M fine."

He thought he could trace the bumps of her spine forever until he hit the clasp of her bra and then even that gift wasn't enough. She grinned like a cat as she undid the clasp and threw the bra behind her. His pants were suddenly too tight.

"Carol," he said, her name coated in awe.

Smirking, she directed his hand over her breast, still covered with her shirt. He groaned and thrust under her, seeking friction.

"Hush," she chided, but grinned again.

He pinched a nipple through the fabric and she threw back her head just in time for the moon to highlight the curve of her neck.

"Hush," he repeated and pulled her mouth to his.

It's addicting, her tongue along his, the way her body responded to his touch. The feeling dampened the pain still plaguing his body slowly until he forgot about his injuries. Boldly, he unbuttoned one, two buttons on her shirt before she sighed in frustration and tossed the piece of clothing over her head. He barely had time to admire her collarbone or the swell of her breasts because she set to work on his own shirt buttons.

He idly mused, "We never did figure out how thin the walls are."

Then he's drowning in lavender and the scent of her. The second she pushed the shirt from his shoulders, her hands moved to unbuckle his belt. Daryl froze, no doubts left as to where they were headed. Carol used that moment to stand and tug at his jeans. Bent over, her skin flushed in the silver light, she locked her gaze onto his.

His chest rose sharply. He wanted and grasped for her. Just out of his reach, she slipped out of her pants in one smooth movement. He choked down a hungry growl.

"Patience," she said and he swore she purposively took her time dragging her fingers under the hem of his pants and tugging. Yet, he let her. Once she had his jeans over his knees, she settled happily back down onto his lap where just his boxers and her panties separated them.

The chair squeaked. They both stilled even though there was no way to correct themselves quietly if they were caught. Despite the risk, they started back up with wild grins plastered across their faces. High on the entire situation, like the times he and Merle just dodged the police, he chuckled, deep and rumbling. Carol's heart pattered strong and steady against him as they kissed. He kept searching for that friction, finding the right angle and then losing it. Each success was honey sweet and lasted not nearly long enough to satisfy.

Breathless, Carol eventually pulled away and slipped her hand under the waistband of his boxers. The angle was awkward, but it didn't matter. He hissed in pleasure as she tightened her grip around him. Stars sparkled in her gaze, mischievous and dazzling at the same time. She removed his hand from the back of her head and directed him to the junction of her legs. When he caressed her just right, she moaned into his mouth.

Intoxicated, he chased that sound and tried to get her to make it again. His waistband snapped back into place as Carol looped her hands back around his neck. He almost didn't miss her hand around him. Not when her breath came in short, fast puffs. Not when he could make her squirm like this.

"That's it," she said. Carol threw her head back and hung there, suspended, for a few moments. Then she shuddered and collapsed against him.

In one swooping motion, he lifted her and together they fell to his mattress. Daryl couldn't look away from her as he struggled to kick his pants and boxers from his ankles. Her dark, heavy gaze locked onto him as she removed her last piece of clothing. It was an invitation with only one choice. He didn't want to fuck it up. He leaned over her and planted a shaky kiss on her mouth.

"Hey," she gently whispered, her curious fingers running through his hair and then down to his shoulders. "It's alright."

Carol drew him in with a peck to his jaw line and then claimed his mouth with a steady hunger. Like so many times before, on the train, at their arrival to Genesis, she led him where they needed to go. In a clever move with her leg and a shift of her hips, he slipped inside her. She swallowed up his gasp with a humming kiss. Their bodies shivered together.

He'd forgotten what it felt like when he was sober. Maybe he'd never had sex without alcohol numbing his system. Certainly, none of his partners ever had the hold in his heart that Carol had.

He knew he wouldn't last long.

Daryl stopped to kiss her long and hard. Even if it was clumsy. With the first roll of his hips, he touched his forehead to hers.

"Fuck," he breathed.

"Yes," she teased back, "that's a word for it."

With a growl, he kissed her twisted lips. Just a couple of thrusts, their hips meeting, parting, and back together again. Carol beneath him, biting her lip to keep her moans soft, but not silent. It was too soon, but also a long time coming. Daryl climaxed with a grunt and a shudder.

He flipped over to the side, instantly conscious about squishing her. The moon blanketed them in an afterglow. His breathing slowed as his sweat dried. Turning to face her, he propped himself up on an elbow with a blush across his face.

"You okay? I didn't...hurt ya or anything?"

"No. I told you, you wouldn't."

Daryl laid back down, feeling drunk. The moment his back touched the mattress, he shot back up. "Fuck. I...fuck. I didn't use a condom or anythin'."

Carol circled a hand around his bicep. "It's okay. We're okay."

"Ya sure?" Heat flooded across his face again.

"I had my tubes tied. After Sophia," she finished in a rush, eyes cast to the floor for a second before finding his again.

"Alright, then," he said, still a little embarrassed. "Ya-"

She cut him off with a finger to his lips. "Shush."

Grinning, he drew her down to the mattress with him, determined not to let her leave. His fear was unfounded. Carol draped a hand across his chest and snuggled against his side. Despite the heat, he covered them with a sheet. The bit of modesty wouldn't have saved them in the rare case that Sophia woke up before them, but a little bit of recklessness kept them from putting any clothing back on. That, and he found he wasn't done with feeling her skin against his.

He fell asleep idly stroking her shoulder, content.

Eventually, a weak gray light filtered in through the windows. It was a quiet morning. Daryl's arm was asleep under Carol. He carefully released himself so as not to wake her. She shifted, mumbled something, and turned back over.

He rubbed his eyes, mindlessly grabbed his discarded clothing and dressed. Finally, with a fresh shirt over his head, he glanced outside.

The horde was gone.

He nearly tripped over a chair on his way to clasp the window sill. Heart hammering, Daryl pressed himself to the window pane and adjusted his excitement.

Most of the horde was gone. There were still dozens of the dead trapped by the wall and the building. What was left of the chain link fence had been trampled into bits and pieces. Questions flew to the front of his mind. Where did they go? What drew them off?

In the end, did it matter?

"Carol," he said. When she didn't respond, he gently shook her shoulder.

"What is it?"

"Come look." Daryl helped her to her feet, threw the sheet around her body, and drew her to the window.

She gasped. "They're all gone!"

He swept his gaze across the horizon, but saw no remnants of the massive ocean of dead. That's when he also noticed something else was missing. Frowning, he muttered, "Where's the damn train?"

Author's Note: To the guest who kept leaving me reviews: thanks so much for your kind words! *heart*

As always, thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think. -randomcat23